The Bill Always Comes Due
by Deliwiel
Summary: John gets a call from an old friend of his, but when he meets up with his friend, things don't feel right. John is in danger, but can his friends get to him in time? Rated T for injuries later on. TAKES PLACE AFTER SERIES ENDS, SO THERE IS A SPOILER IN HERE ABOUT ONE OF THE CHARACTERS.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello! This is my first attempt at writing for the Constantine fandom, and I'm not sure if I caught their characters very well. I'd love to know what you guys think!**_

 _ **I own nothing of Constantine...if I did, it wouldn't have left off that way, or we would have at least gotten a movie finishing it off. Also for a disclaimer, this is entirely in the TV show world; I was never allowed to read the comics, so I really know nothing about the comic version of them; I did some research on wiki, but everything should be in the TV verse canon. It also takes place after the last episode of the series, so there is a slight spoiler about Zed if you haven't finished the series.**_

Zed's eyes flitted back and forth under her eyelids as she muttered incoherently. John walked past the couch where the girl was sleeping, gathering up a few things and stuffing them into his bag. As the blond walked past her a second time though, Zed's sleep suddenly wasn't all that peaceful. "John," she groaned, in obvious distress. "John, no…" The girl began thrashing around on the couch, coming close to falling off a couple times, so Constantine stood over her, reaching to shake her awake.

"'S alright love, it's only a dream," he said. As soon as his hand touched her shoulder, Zed shot up with a huge gasp like she did when she had a particularly potent vision, startling John enough that he let go of her and jumped back slightly in surprise. The girl's eyes were huge and wild as she looked around. With John no longer touching her, the vision ended, and after a moment of sitting there, trying to get her bearings again, Zed slowly moved her legs so that she was sitting on the couch instead of reclining.

John stared at the girl curiously, wondering what she could have seen. "Zed?" he prodded when she didn't immediately volunteer the information. "Zed, what did you see?"

Finally the young woman turned around and stared at John, her eyes still large and filled with...fear? Despair? John saw a wide variety of emotions in the girl's eyes. "You," she replied quietly. "I saw you. You were in pain, and you were all bloody, but I couldn't see what was causing it."

John knew that Zed's visions weren't to be taken lightly, and a part of him wondered if he should be taking backup with him on his trip, but he shook the thought off. Zed seemed to sense something was different, and when she caught sight of John's bag sitting on the table, she turned back to him.

"We got a case? John, I don't know if you should go; what about my vision?"

"Don't worry about me," John assured her. "And no, _we_ don't have a case; _I_ have a case."

Zed looked confused. "What do you mean? I'm coming with you," she insisted, standing up and turning to face the Englishman.

"No, you're not." The finality in John's voice irked Zed, and she folded her arms stubbornly.

"You're not going alone," she repeated. "Chas is visiting with his daughter; you're going to need backup."

"Thanks for the confidence, love," John drawled as he put a few last things in his bag. "Really does my self esteem some good to know that you don't think I can handle things by myself every now and then. Unfortunately, you really _aren't_ coming with me."

"You can't handle everything on your own, John. What about the bounty? What if someone comes to try and collect? What if that's what I saw in my vision?"

"It's been weeks since Midnite tried to do me in, and since him, there've been no attempts on my life other than the regularly scheduled demon, monster, and ghost attacks. Maybe everyone heard what happened with Papa and decided that I'm just not someone to be trifled with," John replied with a cocky smile.

Zed gave the Englishman a deadpan stare, but Constantine merely shrugged. The girl opened her mouth to argue against him going alone again, but John held up his hand.

"Listen," he said. "I got a call from an old mate who said he needs help in Nebraska; I need you to stay here just in case something pops up local, though if anything does happen before I get back, I want you to call me or Chas. With the Rising Darkness becoming more and more powerful, things are happening more and more frequently, and I need eyes and ears here to let me know if I need to come back earlier than I'm planning on."

"You mean you're benching me." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Zed's eyes narrowed and her mouth slanted at John. "You don't want me out in the field because of the tumor. John, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, and I think that I've proved that over and over aga-"

"Zed," John cut in loudly, once again interrupting the woman. "I'm not benching you; I didn't try to make you sit out when we went after that man in Louisiana, did I?" The woman's silence was confirmation enough, and Constantine continued. "This is just...I just need to do this alone, alright? Just...stay here, don't cause any trouble, and when Chas gets back, the two o' you can...I dunno, go grab a pint somewhere or something. If the world isn't ending."

"But John, my vision just barely-"

"I appreciate your concern, darlin', I really do," John replied. "But I can't simply hide away in the mill just because there's a possibility I might get hurt; if I did that every time there was a chance something could happen to me, nothin' would ever get done. I'll be just fine, love. Trust me."

"Yeah, trust John Constantine," Zed griped. "Because that always ends up the way you want it to."

That stung John slightly, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he responded with his usual cocky smile. "You knew what you were signing up for when you decided to stick with me, love. Just because I choose to keep some things to myself doesn't mean that I don't have my reasons." With that, the blond turned and grabbed his bag before walking up the spiral staircase. Before he exited, he called back down, "I'll be back in a few days."

"Wait, John-" The door slammed shut before Zed could finish what she was going to say, and suddenly she was left alone, feeling slightly guilty for the jab at her friend. She thought about running after him, but knew that that could possibly make things worse. The young woman sat back down on the couch with a huff, her hands dangling between her legs as she tried to figure out what to do for the next few days while both John and Chas were gone.

 _0-0-0_

John stepped off the small plane, grateful to be able to stretch his legs after the compact seats inside had forced him into an extremely uncomfortable position; it had only been a two and a half hour flight, but it was a small craft. Now it was supposedly only a thirty minute drive from the airport to Frankie's home. John gave an exaggerated sigh as he went outside to hail a taxi, only to find Frankie standing outside waiting for him.

"Frankie Donovan," John greeted, walking forward and embracing his friend.

"Johnny-boy," Frankie replied with a large grin. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, it definitely has." John examined his friend's face. _For someone who claims to be haunted by a ghost, Frankie's got quite the chipper air about him._

"Here, we're just over here," Frankie said, reaching down to grab John's bag as they moved for the car. John reached the handle first though and quickly pulled the bag out of the reach of his friend.

"I got this, mate," he assured his friend. Frankie shrugged and got into the driver's seat while John walked around and got in the passenger side. Once they were both inside, Frankie took off.

"So tell me about what's been going on," John requested. His friend had been rather cryptic when he first contacted John through Chas.

"Oh, um...well, it started about a month ago; things just started moving around the house without me or Martha touching them, but it really wasn't anything to be worried about...or so we thought. That was before whatever it is started leaving messages on the wall, written in red paint."

"What did the messages say?"

"I dunno, things like 'Get out now,' 'Leave this place,' 'Bad things are coming,'... just stuff like that."

John found it a little odd that Frankie seemed to be almost generalizing the events that were happening in his home. "Anything else?"

"Not really. When the messages showed up, that's when I got ahold of you, which was no easy feat, by the way," Frankie added, glancing over at his friend briefly. "You're holed away pretty well, aren't you?"

"I do my best to stay out of the limelight," John replied. "There had to have been something that happened to push you over the edge and contact me, though. What was it? Also, how _did_ you manage to find me?"

"Well, I started asking around town, seeing if anybody'd had any dealings with a man who dealt with ghosts or demons, and finally I got lucky. Someone in a bar remembered working with you a while back, and they gave me your card. When I called the number on it, I got Chas, and he said he'd pass my message on to you. I didn't even know you still worked with Chas."

"Yup, he's a keeper," John replied.

After a few incidents where Constantine had resorted to stealing someone else's phone to get ahold of Chas or Zed, the two of them had forced their friend to get his own phone, which was currently in John's pocket, though he hadn't bothered turning it back on after the flight; it was also how Chas had let him know that Frankie was wanting him to come to Nebraska.

Frankie continued. "After a little bit, Chas got back in touch and told me when you'd be here, so here we are."

"Right, and what prompted you to try and find me?" John asked again, wondering why Frankie seemed to be purposefully avoiding that question.

"I dunno, Martha just started getting freaked out by it all, y'know? I figured I'd see if you could do anything about it, since you're into that sorta stuff."

It was a vague answer, and John knew that something wasn't right about the whole situation, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Well mate, you've either got an angry ghost on your hands, or there are kids playin' pranks on you," John replied.

"I hope it's the second one," Frankie muttered.

"We always do, mate," John replied, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.

They rode the rest of the way in relative silence, until they turned into the neighborhood where Frankie and Martha supposedly lived. John hadn't talked to Frankie in years, since before Newcastle and Astra, and until he'd contacted Chas, John hadn't even known that Frankie had moved to America.

Soon the two of them pulled into the driveway of a small house. It was the only house John could see around, which didn't fit his memories of Frankie at all; the man loved being around people, so the fact that the house seemed to be the only sign of life around was odd. John cast a sideways glance at his friend, wondering if his friend had really changed as much as it seemed; Frankie usually loved to dive into stories and explain every single detail, which was why his generalization and lack of detail in his haunting story made John a little wary.

"Doesn't it get a little lonely out here?" John asked casually, lighting a cigarette and rolling down the window to let the smoke out so it didn't stink up his friend's car.

Frankie responded without even looking at John. "A little, but Martha likes the peace and quiet."

"Boy, remind me never to get tied down," John quipped. Frankie chuckled but didn't say anything else, and to John, the laugh sounded strained.

The property had an unusually long driveway for the size of the actual house, and when Frankie finally reached the end of the road, John got out of the vehicle. It was pretty warm out, so John removed his trench coat and gripped it in the same hand he had his bag in. Frankie turned off the ignition and got out of the car as well, grabbing his keyring as he led the way up to the front door.

The keys clanked and jangled as Frankie searched for the right one; when he finally found the piece of metal that fit, the door was unlocked and pushed open. Frankie stood to the side and held out his hand, allowing John to go in first. Before John entered, he threw his cigarette on the floor and snuffed it out.

When Constantine walked in, he took a deep breath and looked around. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was musty and dank; it definitely didn't smell like someone was currently living there. The second thing he noticed was the wall. All of them, actually. As soon as he saw them, the feeling that something was wrong solidified, and he turned to his friend.

"Alright, Frankie. What's goin' on?" he asked, setting his bag and coat down on the table nearby before he folded his arms and glared at his old friend.

"What do you mean?" Frankie replied, his voice slightly shaky. John noticed his friend wringing his hands, and when he looked at his friend more critically, John noticed how nervous the man had become, pulling at his collared shirt and wiping sweat off his forehead. John gestured to the blank walls.

"This is old wallpaper. You can tell by how faded it looks, coming from when the sun hit it; it probably came with the house, or was put on soon after the house was built. So unless you managed to find the exact same wallpaper and give it that old, faded look, you lied to me about the writing on the wall. If you lied about that, what else have you lied about? My guess would be you probably don't even live here, given how you struggled to find the right key to the front door, so I wanna know that the blazes is goin' on." John's voice was rising with every word, but he didn't care enough to tone it down. One of the things John hated the most was when people lied to him and used him, and he had the feeling that both of these were the case.

Frankie knew he'd been caught, and he sighed. "I'm sorry I lied, John, I am. It's just, he said that you wouldn't come if he asked you himself, and you probably wouldn't come anyway unless you thought someone was in danger."

"Who said that?" John asked. Frankie didn't respond, but the answer to John's question came soon enough when he heard a voice coming from the doorway behind him. It was a voice that John had thought he would never hear again in his life, a voice he'd never _wanted_ to hear again; a voice that made his stomach drop.

"Hello, Killer."

 _ **Okay...thoughts? Like I said, not sure if I caught their personalities.**_

 _ **The story is finished, just going through and editing the chapters before posting them, so I should have a fairly steady updating time, though I don't know how active this fandom is anymore...**_

 _ **I've honestly debated whether or not to post this, but my friend convinced me to post it, so here it is XD Please let me know what you guys think!**_

 _ **Constructive criticism is welcome, flames are not.**_


	2. Chapter 2

John slowly turned and faced the owner of the voice: Thomas Constantine, John's abusive father. After a moment of staring at his father with the dirtiest look he could, John turned his furious gaze back to Frankie, someone he thought he could trust. "You tricked me," he growled angrily.

"I'm sorry, John," Fankie replied apologetically. "Your father said it was a matter of life or death." He turned to leave father and son alone, but John grabbed his arm before Frankie could leave.

"Hey, Frankie. Next time somethin' real bad happens, like you actually have a ghost problem? Don't ask me to help. I won't come."

Frankie's eyes tightened slightly, but he nodded curtly and left the room, leaving John alone with his father.

"I thought you were dead," John said as he turned back to his father slowly. "I _hoped_ you were dead."

"Sorry to disappoint," Thomas said with a shrug, not sounding sorry at all.

John pulled another cigarette out of the box and lit it, staring at Thomas with dead eyes. "You've got until I'm done with this to explain to me what was so important you had to trick me into comin' here. Obviously there's something important goin' on, otherwise you would have continued to let me live my life in peace, so what is it?"

Thomas just stared at his son, and Constantine rolled his eyes. "Look, despite what you think I do with my life, I actually am in the middle of something pretty important, so if you aren't actually gonna do any talkin', then I'm-"

"You're the only one who would do," Thomas cut in, his voice scratchy. John raised his eyebrows at Thomas.

"Sorry, what?"

"You're the only one who would do for me to get my Mary Anne back."

"Look, Thomas. I dunno what you've heard about what I do, but I don't bring people back from the dead." John didn't bother mentioning to his father that he'd been trying to figure out a way to bring his mother back for years. "So, sorry I wasted a journey on such a stupid endeavor. Don't try and contact me again."

"You haven't finished your cigarette," Thomas pointed out. John pulled the stick out of his mouth and looked at it briefly before he tossed it on the floor and ground it under his feet.

"Maybe not, but I'm definitely done with it." Constantine turned around and started walking for the front door.

"You can't leave." Thomas' voice was hard as he spoke, and it made John pause for just another moment.

"Ah, there's the Thomas I know," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and turning to face the other man again. "Your word is law. Well, I have to tell you; I'm no longer a child, and I can do what I want, thank you very much." John began to walk towards the door again, but when he grabbed the handle, the knob was stuck fast. Trying again and again resulted in the same outcome, and finally Constantine let go of the knob and looked at his father.

"What're you playing at, Thomas?"

"I told you John. You're the only one that will work, and you can't leave."

John took a few steps forward. "You don't wanna go toe to toe with me, old man," he warned. "I'm not the scared little boy you used to be able to punch around."

"Then you shouldn't have anything to be worried about," Thomas countered. John hesitated momentarily; the feeling that something was wrong once again intensified. "What did you do?" John asked, cautiously moving forward, tensing as he prepared for a fight.

"I did what I had to do to see my wife again," came his father's cryptic reply. "A life for a life."

At that statement, John realized his father wasn't working alone. "Look, Thomas, whatever you've done, whoever you're working with, they're lying to you," he insisted. "Nobody has the power to bring back someone from the dead, not unless they're working with a powerful group...what do you know about the Brujeria?"

"The what?" Thomas seemed genuinely confused, and John knew that his father had never heard of the group.

"Well, either your new friend was lying to you about bringing mum back, or he works for a group that only do things to meet their own agendas."

"Whatever they are, they promised they would bring Mary Anne back."

John felt like hitting his father to try and make him listen, and he even began to move forward, but before he took even two steps, he felt a shove from behind, and he was forcefully slammed into the wall, pinned about two feet off the ground, though he couldn't see his attacker. Constantine grunted from the force being exerted on his body, as well as the force that he tried to use to break free, though it was in vain.

"Alright, you have him, now give me back Mary Anne," Thomas insisted, speaking to thin air. John strained himself again, trying to get down, but whatever was holding him brought him off the wall only to shove him back even more forcefully than before, dazing the man. John's vision was blurry, and he had a ringing in his ears, but even through the ringing, John definitely heard someone respond to his father.

"All in good time, Thomas," a harsh voice said. "The deal was a life for a life, so once Johnny here is dead, you'll have your wife back, but I'm not going to rush. I want to cherish every moment of this."

Thomas sputtered in the background, but John didn't pay any attention to his father; he began whispering an incantation under his breath to banish the entity, whoever or whatever it was. However, before John could finish his spell, he felt a whoosh of wind as the entity materialized in front of him as a dark wavy shape. Unfortunately for the occultist, the shadowy figure had a very solid grip, which wrapped itself around Constantine's throat, cutting off the spell before John could banish whatever it was. John's words died in his throat as he choked and gagged for air, straining against the hold the being had on him.

Casting a hateful glance towards his father, who was still standing in the same place as before, John saw the older man hold out his hands in a helpless gesture. He didn't look like he regretted the decision to sell out his son as much as a normal father would, though. Then again, John and Thomas Constantine's relationship was anything _but_ normal.

John started to feel like his lips were swelling as the being attacking him continued to squeeze his throat. The blond's hands were also pinned down, but suddenly he was lifted off the wall momentarily, and the forces holding his hands were relinquished. John he dove for his pockets. The only thing he could find was his lighter, which was better than nothing. He pulled it out and lit it, shoving the flame right where his attacker's face would have been if the being had a face. There was a pained hiss, but the hold on John's neck wasn't released. Instead, he was slammed back into the wall with such a great force that he immediately began seeing black creeping in on the edge of his vision.

Before the overwhelming darkness completely won him over though, John felt a sharp jab on the side of his neck. He winced in pain, but he didn't have to feel it for long. Within seconds, he was limp, and the entity holding John dropped him to the floor.

"Now will you bring back my wife?" Thomas asked impatiently. "That _was_ our deal."

"You can either wait until our agreement is complete and John Constantine is dead, or I can arrange a quick death for you, since you seem so impatient to visit with your wife."

Thomas paled slightly, and he backed away from the entity, who grinned.

"A wise choice," he purred, turning back to the man who'd lied about being able to help him. "We're just getting started."

 _0-0-0_

Zed wasn't sure what to do. Ever since John had left, she'd been getting the feeling that something bad was about to happen, and it just got worse with every passing minute. She was pacing around the coffee table in front of the fireplace, with the mirror that showed things from the past above it. Zed looked at the mirror and saw Gary staring at her with wide eyes, though Zed knew it wasn't actually him.

"What do you want me to do?" she muttered angrily at the mirror. Breaking her gaze away from the judgemental stare of Gary Lester, Zed looked at the time on her phone. John should have gotten to Nebraska by now, and while she knew John wouldn't call her just to let her know he got in safely, she debated whether or not _she_ should call _him_. She refrained though, not only because she knew he could take care of himself, but also because she knew if he was in the middle of any sort of demon or ghost purging, he wouldn't answer. _Not that he answers his stupid phone anyways,_ she thought to herself.

When she looked around, wondering what she could do to distract herself, Zed noticed something on the floor; it was one of John's many empty cigarette boxes. She wrinkled her nose at the gross habit Constantine had, but he didn't seem inclined to quit any time soon. _When he gets back, we're definitely having a talk about putting things in the trash though,_ she thought to herself as she bent down to pick up the box. As soon as her hands touched it though, she was suddenly in a very different location, and the sinking feeling in her stomach returned tenfold.

She looked at her surroundings in a panic, hoping that the vision wasn't what she thought it was going to be. The first thing she saw was an older man sitting on a chair, and she relaxed slightly. However, she looked around and saw another chair, and she tensed right back up. John was sitting in the second chair, his head lolling onto his chest, his wrists handcuffed in front of him. They weren't attached to the chair, which indicated to Zed that whoever had John captive was either powerful enough that they didn't need to tie the occultist down, or they were just proud and stupid. The psychic desperately hoped it was the second train of thought.

"John," she shouted, wishing he could hear her. "John!"

Constantine groaned, moving his head around as he started coming to, and Zed hurried over to her friend. She knew that she wasn't actually there, but she tried to touch him anyways. Just as she'd expected, she passed right through him, but Constantine looked up, and if Zed hadn't known better, she'd have said John could actually see her.

"John?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face. Constantine didn't react, and Zed dropped her hand in disappointment.

As John started to open his mouth to speak, Zed could start to feel the vision slipping away; she fought against it as hard as she could, but the images and settings around her began blurring into each other, and soon she was standing back in the mill, holding John's empty box of cigarettes.

Feeling slightly dizzy, Zed backed up, knocking the back of her knees onto the couch, and she was forced to sit down, which was a good thing; she probably would have fallen flat on her butt otherwise. She _knew_ John shouldn't have gone alone! The psychic growled in frustration, wondering who the man was sitting across from her friend. Quickly, Zed pulled out her phone and dialed Chas, knowing he'd kill her and John both if she didn't tell him what was going on, and unlike him, Zed and John didn't have thirty some-odd lives to waste.

After each ring that passed without Chas picking up, Zed got slightly more tense, and she began biting her thumbnail. Finally, the phone was answered.

"Zed?" Chas asked, knowing that she wouldn't call him on a weekend with his daughter unless something was wrong. "What's going on?"

"It's John," she replied, barely waiting for him to finish asking his question. "He's in trouble."

 ** _Okay, there's the second chapter! Thoughts? I still feel like I'm struggling capturing their characters a little bit, so any thoughts on that?_**

 ** _Also, in the past week, I've shown my best friend, two of my sisters, and one other friend Constantine XD I think I need help._**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Okay, this is a really long chapter, but I couldn't figure out where to cut it off. Also, I was editing it while watching an episode of Constantine, so there may be a few mistakes in the chapter. If you see anything that needs to be changed, let me know, and I'll fix it.**_

"Okay wait, explain again what you saw?" Chas requested as Zed got into his cab. She had booked them the next available flight to Nebraska, which was leaving from the airport in a little less than two hours. The psychic took in a breath and began as Chas pulled back onto the street..

"Earlier today, I was having a dream, a vision, of John. He was bloody, and he wasn't moving. When I told him about it, he said that everything was going to be fine, but that he had to go on a job. When I offered to come with him, he said no, it was something he had to do alone."

"An old childhood friend of his got in contact with me and said he needed help getting rid of a ghost in his house," Chas explained.

"Was this old friend actually old, with white hair?"

Chas looked over at the young woman for a second before looking back at the road. "No," he replied.

"Well, when I picked up one of John's empty cigarette boxes, I had another vision, and this time I saw John tied up in a chair. There was another man in the room, but he was old, and had white hair. The way he looked at John, Chas. It scared me; it was pure hatred in his eyes."

"When you say old, how old are you talkin'?"

"I dunno, old enough to have white hair?" Zed replied, trying to curb her frustration. "Probably in his sixties at least," she added after a moment of thought. Chas's forehead furrowed in confusion, and Zed felt the cab accelerate slightly.

"Was John bloody in your latest vision?"

"No." Zed thought about it for a moment, then amended, "He had a cut on his forehead, and something cut on his neck, but it wasn't anywhere near the damage I saw in the first vision."

"John, you stupid, stupid idiot," Chas growled. "Why didn't you let one of us come?"

"Do you know the man who's got John?" Zed asked. By the look on her friend's face, she already knew the answer to that question was yes.

"If my guess about your vision is right, I think we're dealing with John's father."

"Wait, his father? Why would he be tying John up?"

"John and his father have always had a bad relationship; Mary Anne Constantine, John's mother, died giving birth to John, and his father blamed him for it. John left home as soon as he could, and that's when he met Annie and got introduced to all this."

"So why is John's father kidnapping him? And how did he manage to get beat John in what looks like a fight? He didn't look that strong."

Chas's frown deepened. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I know where we can start."

"You do?"

"Frankie, the guy who contacted John for the job in the first place. There's no way he's not involved in this some way, and he's gonna help us get to the bottom of this. Don't worry, Zed. John's not dying any time soon if we've got anything to say about it."

Zed didn't respond. She wished she had the confidence that Chas had, but the image of John from her first vision, on the floor, covered in blood and not moving was burned in her mind, and she silently willed their car to go faster.

 _0-0-0_

John lifted his head slowly, trying to combat the pounding in his skull. He couldn't be sure, but he almost felt like someone was watching him; no one was in front of him though, except his father, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away. When John tried to move his hands, he found that they were cuffed together, though he wasn't tied down to the kitchen chair he was currently sitting on.

"So," John drawled, looking up at his father and ignoring the sharp pain in his head that had more than likely come from being smashed against a wall. "Who are you then?"

Thomas Constantine looked at his son with an incredulous look on his face. "That thing didn't hit you hard enough to make you forget your old man," he stated.

"No, you're right, but I can't feel that cold, chilly presence anymore, and since the creature seemed so intent on destroying me, the fact that I'm not dead yet does pose the interesting question of why he would take off before the job is done."

Thomas smirked. "You're a smart one, I'll give you that," he admitted, standing up and walking around.

"It wasn't that smart, mate. You just seem fairly dull. Besides, I like to think I've picked up a few things over the years," John said with an arrogant tilt of his head. "Now, you have three seconds to tell me who you are and what you want before I come over there and make you tell me. Trust me when I tell you it'll be better for you if you take option number one."

Thomas Constantine laughed, but it wasn't his father's laugh. John also figured that whoever was inside his father's body wasn't going to volunteer the information willingly, so he stood up and began stomping towards his father, muttering an incantation under his breath, a spell that would banish the entity from his father's body but give it a corporeal form so he could beat the information out of whoever it was. However, before he'd even muttered half of the spell, he felt like his tongue was suddenly glued to the back of his throat, and John started gagging. The sudden lack of air was so shocking that John actually had to find his way back to the chair he'd woken up in to sit back down as he clutched at his throat. His fit lasted until he mentally cast away the thought of completing his spell, and when he finally did that, his tongue lowered and his breathing returned to normal. The entity inhabiting Thomas' body laughed again, and John glared at the being.

"Clever," he said. "The glyph for that particular spell goes on the neck, so I wouldn't have noticed it until I tried casting a spell." John suddenly remembered the pain on his neck right before he passed out, and he silently berated himself. He should have picked up on that sooner.

The thing inside Thomas looked delighted with itself, and John rolled his eyes.

"Tell me. Your promised my dad you could bring my mum back if I was exchanged for her? A life for a life? Was that an empty promise, or are you working with the Brujeria?"

Thomas' face looked confused. "The who?" He seemed genuinely confused, and John figured that meant that it really had just been an empty promise.

"Never mind that. My guess is, being the sorry drunkard he is, dear old dad probably agreed to your terms without giving any sort of thought to letting you inhabit his body."

"This isn't exactly what Thomas had in mind, and he was a little less than willing to cooperate when he realized I would need to possess his body, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter."

"Well, I hate to know that someone hates me as much as you do, but have absolutely no idea who they are. Why don't you tell me, and then you can get right on back to killing me."

"Oh John, I'm not going to kill you. Not immediately, anyway. My entire family and I are dead because of you. No, I want you to suffer; suffer like we did. No matter how much you plead and beg with me to kill you, the end isn't going to come until you know true agony."

"I don't think you really know me at all then, mate. First off, I'm not one to beg. Second, I've been living with true agony for longer than most people do in their entire lives."

"Be that as it may, I'm going to take my time and enjoy this as long as I can."

"Well, it's just my lucky day, isn't it?" John quipped drily.

The being didn't respond to John's wit. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Wait," John said as the man started walking forward. "You've got me at a clear disadvantage; you know me, but I still don't know who you are."

"You really don't remember me?" Thomas asked, clearly angry that he didn't seem to have made an impression on the exorcist. He walked forward until he was standing right in front of John, then grabbed his chin.

John grimaced as it felt like his chin was being crushed. "Why don't you give me a hint?" he grunted out. Thomas glared at Constantine before jerking John's head to the side, throwing the blond out of the chair. John crashed into the wall, then onto the floor.

"I _was_ going to contact you myself and let you know that I had your father, but after talking to him, I realized that you two actually hate each other. What a coincidence; I can relate. Anway, that's when I posed the idea to trick you into coming here, and as we can see, that worked like a charm."

"I've got a couple other charms that work really well, too, if you'll let me show them to you," John offered sarcastically, pushing himself into an upright position. "They do a great job at sending things back to where they come from."

"You're not going anywhere Constantine, and neither am I." Suddenly, Thomas' hands had reached up and made a clawing motion through the air, and John felt three simultaneous sharp, distinct points of pain on his chest. The pain moved down his chest with Thomas' hand motions, leaving John's shirt and chest torn and bloody. Constantine bit back his sharp shout of pain that wanted to escape, not willing to give whoever was attacking him the satisfaction of hearing his victim's pain.

Upon closer inspection, John found that while the wounds were definitely meant to hurt, they weren't deep enough to actually kill him unless they were left unattended long enough. Be that as it may, John's white shirt was quickly becoming more and more red with every passing moment. However, the wounds on his chest hadn't even begun to fully bleed before a gash was torn into John's thigh, dangerously close to the femoral artery. John hissed in pain, but once again, to his tormentor's growing frustration, he didn't cry out.

The wound on John's leg had just been opened, but then he felt something else rip into his stomach. This wound was slightly deeper than the other two, and as such, it began to bleed more profusely than the others.

Through a hazy mind, John couldn't help but think that the wounds seemed oddly specific, and for some reason, they felt familiar. His captor finished with his stomach, and the occultist examined the three wounds. His chest, leg, stomach...Suddenly, something else the entity had said came back to John, about how he could relate about having a difficult relationship with his father, and John knew exactly who the ghost (because he now knew it was a ghost) was.

"Listen," John panted, pressing his still-bound hands against his stomach, trying to slow the flow of blood. "I know who you are, and I know why you're doing this. Jack, right? Jack Grader?" Constantine took the gaping mouth and the ghost's slightly stunned silence as confirmation. "Listen, Jack. I tried to get there, tried to save you and your family, but-"

"Save it," the boy snapped. "I came to you looking for help, and you said you could help me."

Angry at the blond, the boy turned around and took his eyes off John for a moment. As soon as the boy turned away, John immediately started inching his way towards the table, where his bag was still where he'd set it when he'd walked into the house.

"I know I did, and I know I messed up," John said, hoping that the boy didn't turn and catch him. "I wasn't as prepared as I should have been; I got there too late, and your family suffered the consequences for it. But you shouldn't be here," John added. "You should have moved onto the next life. It isn't right for you to be sticking around like this."

Jack had look slightly stunned when John confirmed that he knew who Jack was, but as soon as the occultist mentioned moving on, something inside the boy snapped. He turned back to John and the blond was forced to freeze in his progress.

"Move on?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice. "I _can't_ move on. Knowing that you were still alive has kept me here for the past two years. Once you're dead, I can move on. But only when you're dead."

"Sounds like a personal problem, mate," John quipped, even though he knew it was stupid to egg on the spirit that was currently holding him captive. He couldn't help it though; it was in his nature.

For a moment, John thought the spirit of Jack Grader was going to slice him to ribbons right there, but instead, the ghost looked down, and Thomas Constantine's face took on a pouty look that only a teenager could pull off. _Thomas' face seems to pull it off pretty well though,_ John thought drily to himself.

"You said...you said you would help me," Jack repeated, softer this time.

"I know, and I tried."

John's biggest regret would always be Astra and what happened to her, but that didn't mean that when he wasn't successful, it didn't haunt him, especially when it involved younger people like this kid's family had. However, while John did feel awful about what had happened to this boy and his family, it didn't mean that he wanted to be killed for it. He still had too much work to do. While the boy was pouting, John was itching to reach up and break the glyph on his neck so he could actually recite the incantation successfully, but the glyph was cut into his skin. John knew that if he tried to break the symbol up with anything but a blade, it would take too long; the boy would notice, and John would lose all semblance of the element of surprise.

Choosing to try for his bag again, John managed to move a few inches closer to the table while Jack wasn't paying attention, and now the bag was only a few feet away. _Just keep looking away,_ John willed the boy, needing to reach up and grab the bag.

John's hopes that the boy was going to remain still long enough for him to get to his bag were dashed as the teenager turned looked at him again, his expression morphing into one of anger and hate. The blond had a hard time not wincing; while he was a grown man capable of taking care of himself, and he knew it wasn't actually his father making that face, the sight of Thomas Constantine's angry face still brought back bad memories for John. Memories of the man coming home drunk, even angrier than when he'd left for the pub, and his consequent beatings of his children, mainly focusing on John, whom he always seemed to favor picking on.

"You said you were going to help me." Jack repeated again. His words were still soft, but they'd lost the pleading tone and taken on a harsher edge. "I told you what was happening, and you said you could help. You said that plant would stop me, and that I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else!"

John flashed back to two years ago, when a scared teenage boy had come to him, claiming to be a monster.

 _0-0-0_

 _Someone pounded on the door, and John rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for company, so he didn't bother getting up. However, that didn't seem to stop the knocker, because less than thirty seconds later, another knock sounded, and before John had even had the chance to yell 'Go away!' at whoever was outside, the door was opened. John stood up, turning to face his intruder in anger and prepared with all sorts of spells to neutralize whatever threat it was, but he stopped short when he came face-to-face with a sopping wet teenage boy._

" _What are you doing here?" John asked in a surly tone, not ready to put away his defensive spells yet if it meant getting rid of his company._

" _You've got to help me," the boy begged. "Please, will you help me? Everyone says you're the person to come to if you've got trouble, and I need help!"_

 _John observed the bruises on the boy's arms and wrists. "Look, lad, I dunno what sorta trouble you've gotten yourself into, but I think this would be a case for the actual authorities," John replied, turning back to his drink. It wasn't that he didn't care; it was that if he cared about every bruised and bloody person that came in, he'd never be able to do his actual work. As much as he felt for him, John felt like the boy needed to go report whoever was hurting him to the police._

" _The police can't do anything for me!" the young man replied frantically. "Please, you've got to help me before I can hurt anyone!"_

 _That piqued John's interest slightly, since to him it seemed like the boy was the one being hurt. "What do you mean, before you can hurt anyone?"_

" _I...I'm a monster," the boy confessed. John couldn't tell if the water running down the boy's face were tears, or if it was just water from the boy's hair dripping down on his face. Once again, John looked pointedly at the boy's bruised wrists and arms._

" _A monster, eh? What sorta monster?" John didn't expect much; maybe the kid got really violent when he was on drugs, and he got into a fight with another junkie; maybe that's where the bruises came from. If that was the case, it was definitely a case for the cops. John thought about it again though, and wondered how and why the child had come to an occultist detective. The blond began to wonder if the boy had been possessed by a demon and was hurting people, and if that was the case, it was John who would definitely need to get involved. However, the boy's answer was not something that Constantine was expecting._

" _I think I'm...I think I'm a werewolf."_

 _John almost laughed. Almost. He studied the teenager, searching for any of the obvious signs of lycanthropy. The child's eyes were regular, human shaped eyes, and he couldn't see any sort of bite mark, though he knew that was easy enough to cover up with makeup or even clothes, depending on the location of the bite._

" _What makes you think that, mate?" John wasn't casting aside all doubt yet, but he definitely wanted to hear what the young man had to say._

" _It started a few months ago. I went to bed one night, but when I woke up the next morning, I was in the woods; I had no idea how I even got out of the house. I wondered if I'd snuck out of the house and just gotten plastered with my friends, but they all said we didn't go out that night. Thankfully I was able to sneak back inside before any of my family woke up, but at breakfast, everyone was saying...they said that they heard growls and saw a huge shadow walking by the house. I...it didn't attack or anything, but I started wondering what really had happened._

 _Nothing happened again for another month-ish, but then it happened again. One night I went to bed and woke up the next morning in the middle of the yard. My family said that the creature had been back, and this time it got closer. They said it was a huge, wolf-like creature, but it never got close enough to the house to get a clear shot."_

 _John had to admit, it seemed a bit suspect that the boy blacked out on both nights that this supposed beast was wandering around his own yard, but the occultist also wondered why the boy would be stalking his own home. He had his suspicions, and he was guessing that he was right, but the boy continued talking, so John kept listening._

" _I looked it up; both time I blacked out, it was the full moon. Look...tonight is another full moon. Please, Mr. Constantine, you've got to help me. I don't want to get hurt, and I don't want to hurt anyone. My family was talking about how if they saw the creature again they were gonna grab my dad's gun and shoot it. I think if I'm that...that thing, and I really am a werewolf, isn't it true that only silver bullets can stop one?"_

" _Not necessarily," John replied. "If it's a young enough lycanthrope, sometimes injury to the brain or damage to the heart can stop it, but that's if they're younger than a year. You can also use a wolfsbane mixture on any weapon really, and it's lethal to the wolf. The easiest way to kill a werewolf though, if you've got the time, is to wait until they're human again and kill them then. When they're human, you can kill them any way you want, and they'll stay dead. What's your name, lad?"_

" _Jack," the boy replied. "Jack Grader."_

" _Listen, Jack. One doesn't just up and become a werewolf one night; they need to be bitten. Tell me, have you been bitten recently, or anything of the like?"_

 _Jack thought about it for a moment. "Just before the first time my family saw the wolf, I was taking a shortcut through a graveyard, but I was attacked. I was knocked over, but nothing happened. I thought I heard a growl above me, but when I sat up, I was alone. My hand was bleeding, but I thought it just happened when I fell down."_

" _Let me see your hand," John requested, walking over to the young boy. The exorcist turned the boy's hand gently, avoiding touching the bruises as he examined the palm. Sure enough, there was a small scar there. It could have easily passed as something one would get from falling to an untrained eye, but John Constantine was anything but that._

" _Definitely a bite," John confirmed. Jack had a whole variety of emotions play across his face._

" _Is there a way to reverse the curse?"_

 _John shook his head. "No sure-fire ways, lad. All the ways I've researched have turned out to be completely bogus."_

 _Jack looked down at his feet; he'd been expecting such an answer, but now that it had actually been said, he didn't know how to react. "So what can I do?" he asked quietly. "I don't want to die."_

" _No one ever does, mate." John could tell that didn't help the boy's mood at all, so he added, "You can always take certain precautions around the full moon."_

" _Like what?"_

" _Remember that wolfsbane I mentioned earlier? It's lethal in liquid form, or if ingested, but if the plant itself touches the skin of a lycanthrope, it burns them something awful. You put some around your door and windows, it'll merely keep you from going anywhere near them, and if you can't get out of your room, you can't hurt anyone. That's a temporary solution, though. I have a few friends I could contact and see if they have any ideas on how to help you," he offered. Jack nodded and sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve._

 _The blond looked out the window, noticing how close to sundown they were getting. "Listen, Jack. I don't have any wolfsbane here with me now, but I know a place a few minutes away. I'm gonna run get some, but I'm going to put a spell on the door. It'll keep anything from getting in until I get back, but more importantly, it should keep you inside as well."_

 _Jack looked scared to be left alone, but John reassured him. "Look lad. This right here is probably the safest place you can be for now. I can't have you out there walking around waiting for the moon to come out; I'll be back soon."_

 _Jack nodded finally, and John clapped him on the shoulder. "Good lad," he said. "I'll be back in a jiff," he repeated. "Stay here, and uh, don't touch anything," he added before closing the door._

 _0-0-0_

 _As John walked through the herb shop, he kept glancing at the other customers in the store. The blond thought about the bruises on the teen's wrists and arms again, and now, more than ever, John had a strong suspicion that someone in the boy's family was abusive; Constantine had lived with his own father long enough to recognize the signs; Jack was twitchy, and he had flinched when John reached for him._

 _It took John a few more minutes than he was expecting to find the wolfsbane, but he finally found it and grabbed the last bundle of the dried herb. He made his way to the front of the store, depositing the wolfsbane on the counter in front of the cashier. Without even looking up, the bored-looking girl spoke._

" _Full moon again tonight? All you crazies always come looking for this stuff when there's one, saying you're going to catch yourselves a werewolf."_

" _That I am, lass," John replied evenly. "That would explain the apparent lack you have of it in the store."_

 _The girl merely sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, and John added, "I'd curb my attitude about things you don't understand if I were you," John added. He set the money down on the counter and picked up his plants. "You can keep the change."_

 _It was later than John was comfortable with, and he practically jogged all the way back to where he'd left Jack. He reached the door and felt the pulsing of the protection spell, which he was grateful to find still intact. He hadn't been sure how well the spell would hold up against a werewolf, and he wasn't keen on finding out. Closing his eyes and holding his splayed hand about an inch away from the door, John quickly muttered the counter spell, and once the shield was down, he moved to open the door. As he grasped the handle though, he heard a soft growl coming from inside._

" _Oh, this can't be good," John muttered to himself. "Jack?" he called out. "Jack, it's me, John. I'm coming in now, lad. Don't worry, we're going to get everything sorted out."_

 _When the blond opened the door, he leaned away from it at first, but when nothing came out and attacked him, the occultist cautiously moved inside. The first thing he noticed was that it was dark; either Jack just hadn't turned the lights on, or-_

 _A roar/yell sounded to John's immediate right, and he was forced to duck as a huge paw swung towards his head, the claws barely missing John's scalp. "Jack!" he yelled, shocked to see how quickly the transformation had taken place; the moon had just barely risen! The exorcist had never been around to actually see a transformation, so he never knew the process, but if the teenager in front of him was any indication, it was a quick change._

 _John's thoughts were yanked back to what was most important when Jack began advancing on the blond. John held up the bundle of wolfsbane he'd acquired, now using it as a defense for himself. Wolf Jack paused and growled as he sensed the vile plant, but his desire to get out of the house won over his fear of burns. With another growl, the wolf lunged at John, forcing the occultist to dive out of the way. He wasn't quick enough to avoid being hit completely though, and Jack's back legs lashed out as he jumped through the window, connecting solidly with John's chest and propelling the man back into the counter._

 _With a groan of pain, John pushed himself to his feet, hobbling over to the now-shattered window, rubbing his aching chest and back. "Why didn't you just...go out the stupid door?" John muttered angrily as he observed the scene. Even though it had only been a few seconds since Jack had escaped, John couldn't see him, which was surprising with how big the beast was. However, John had a feeling he knew where Jack was headed._

 _John cursed quietly under his breath. He knew the boy's name, and so he was able to quickly cast a spell that lit a path for him leading to Jack's house. John just hoped that he could get there in time._

 _0-0-0_

 _John stared at the carnage in front of him. A man, a woman, and a teenage girl were all on the ground, covered in blood. The mother's chest had been ripped open, the father had been gutted, and the young woman's leg had been ripped to shreds. They'd all bled out within moments._

" _No," John growled, squeezing the wolfsbane so hard that it began to crumble in his hands._

 _He'd followed the lit path to Jack's house, but he was too late. John had heard gunshots and screaming, but by the time he'd gotten there, the damage had been done. The entire family was already dead or bleeding out on the ground, and John knew that no matter what he tried, he wasn't going to be able to save them. Suddenly John heard a soft growl, and he turned, facing the wolf that was Jack. The wolf had turned towards John, and the exorcist tensed, preparing for an attack, but then he noticed that there was a gunshot wound on the animal's chest, near its heart._

 _The wolf whimpered and walked forward a few steps before collapsing. Before John's eyes, the wolf changed from a monstrous animal back into a teenager. A teenager that was lying still. John walked forward until he was standing over the young man, and he saw the boy's eyes, cold and lifeless. He was dead._

 _Police sirens were wailing as they came towards the house. There must have been somebody nearby that heard the commotion as well and called the cops. John knew that the police wouldn't believe any of his answers to their questions, so the blond detective slipped quietly back into the woods surrounding the property, the image of the massacre seared in his brain forever._

 ** _Soooo...whatcha think? Good? Bad? I should print it out and burn it? ;) Just kidding. But seriously, let me know if you think I can improve anywhere!_**


	4. Chapter 4

As John remembered the details of that night, he also remembered what the papers had written. The major headlines said that there had been an animal attack, and when the family tried to defend itself, the beast killed them, but not before the young man of the house was accidentally shot in friendly fire.

A kick in his stomach yanked the blond out of his blast to the past, and John grunted and glared up at Jack, still inhabiting Thomas' body.

"It's not fair!" Jack shouted. "My father was the abusive one! Why did we all have to pay for his sins?"

"I know it's not fair, mate," John said. So, his hunch about the boy's father had been right; that made the attack even more of a tragedy than it already was. "I know. I should have gotten back to you sooner, and we could have worked things out."

"The way I see it," Jack interrupted. " You're the reason I got out, the reason for all of this!" Another kick made John's already-sore torso ache more.

"Jack," John began, holding out his bound hands in a peaceful gesture, hoping to calm the boy down, or reach some humane part of him, however small it was. "I can help you escape the pain that you've been feeling for the past two years," he offered. "I wasn't there to help you in life. Let me help you move on in death, and escape the pain you've been holding onto for so long."

For a moment, John thought Jack was actually going to take him up on his offer, but then the boy's face contorted into a snarl, and John knew his time was up. It was now or never. John kicked out with his good leg, catching his attacker in the knee. When Jack started to tumble over, John got to his knees and lunged for the table where his bag was sitting. He wanted to shout in anger when he realized his reach was just short enough that he couldn't reach the bag. He kept pushing though, stretching just past what he thought he couldn't, and he managed to grab the bag with his middle and index finger. He'd barely had time to revel in his success before he suddenly felt two hands grab his shirt and pull him back.

The bag fell off the table and spilled its contents on the floor, but it didn't do John much good. Jack grabbed ahold of the blond and with inhuman strength and threw him across the room. John hit the far wall with a thud, then fell to the floor, groaning as he rolled over and inadvertently put pressure on his wounds. He'd hit his head hard against the wall and was now seeing stars, but through his hazy vision he could see Jack in Thomas' body stalking over to him, and he had flashbacks to his childhood.

"Not again," John muttered, struggling to get up. He was _not_ going to be a punching bag for his father again, whether or not the older man was in control. As Jack reached for John, the blond ducked out of the way, but he'd forgotten about his injured leg. He tried to move too quickly and stumbled, giving Jack an easy opportunity to catch him.

Jack hit John's shoulder hard enough to dislocate it and make him drop to the ground. Not about to give up the fight that easily, John swept his good leg around, knocking Thomas' feet out from underneath him. With the older man on the floor, John had the upper hand, and he took advantage of it. Ignoring the flaring pain in his shoulder, John straddled his father's chest, pressing the chain between his handcuffs down on the man's throat.

Thomas choked and gasped for breath, and for a moment John thought he had won. That was until he heard a ripping sound and once again felt invisible claws digging into his skin, this time on his side. The gashes were much deeper than the other wounds, and John could feel the total blood loss of his combined wounds taking a toll on his body. While the warlock was distracted with the pain, Jack used Thomas' hands to clap his son's ears with his palms flat.

The ringing in John's ears was overwhelming, and everything he heard was muted. His head hurt, and his distractedness was the only opening Jack needed to attack back. Jerking his head forward, Jack smacked his forehead into John's nose, and the detective went reeling. His leg refused to support his weight, and the blond crashed to his knees when he tried to get away.

There was a savage yell from behind, and suddenly John was locked in a constricting embrace from behind. The blond grunted and wiggled, trying to escape the grip, but he knew that ghosts have inhuman strength. The more he struggled, the tighter and tighter Jack's grip on him became, until John started to see stars in his vision and felt like his head was about to pop.

 _0-0-0_

"Come on, can't you drive any faster?" Zed urged. Chas looked at the woman for a moment to shoot her a glare.

"I'm pushing her as fast as she'll go," he repeated for the umpteenth time. "Come on, with that tailwind that got us in thirty minutes earlier than expected, we're here much sooner than we should have been." They passed under a green traffic light, and Chas pointed up. "And that is the sixth green light we've hit. Knock on wood, but we've barely hit any hard patches getting here. I think someone's watching out for John."

They both knew who that 'someone' was, but Zed wished that Manny would either show himself, or just get John out of the mess himself, even though she knew that angels weren't technically supposed to directly involve themselves in human affairs. Zed also knew that Chas was doing his best, so she decided to curb her backseat driving as the man wove through traffic.

In order to find their target, Zed had to put all thoughts of John out of her head, otherwise when she closed her eyes, he was all she saw, and she needed to find someone else. She'd finally seen a bar on the side of the road called 'The Hometown Brew,' though several of the neon letters were out, making the name read 'Te Hoeown ew.' After a brief search on Google, Zed found the address, and that was where she and Chas were currently headed.

 _0-0-0_

"Chas!" Frankie yelped as the bigger man pinned him against the outside wall the bar. "Wh-what's goin' on? How did you...how did you find me?"

"That doesn't matter," Chas growled. "Where is John? Why aren't you with him?"

"John?" Frankie acted as if he didn't know who they were talking about until Chas applied a bit more pressure to the man's lungs. "Oh, _John!_ Yeah, we finished up a while ago," he said. The massive gulp and sweat shining on his brow let Zed and Chas know that he was lying, even though they didn't need proof for that.

"Where is he?" Zed asked in a dangerously quiet voice. Frankie looked panicked.

"I swear! We finished up with each other hours ago! I haven't seen him since we went to that-" The man trailed off, hoping the two hadn't caught his slip-up, but they had.

"Your what?" Chas asked. Thankfully, outside in the alleyway, they had a bit of privacy, so Chas pulled out his long knife that he always kept at his side. Chas placed the knife against Frankie's throat.

"House!" Frankie squeaked out, his eyes going wide at the sight of the knife. "I took John to an old house he thought was mine! His father wanted to talk to him, but said John wouldn't come if he asked, so Thomas asked me to get him to come here. I figured he wanted to apologize for the way he'd treated John when he was younger, so I did it. I got John to come out."

"I wish it were that simple," Zed muttered, staring up at Chas. The older man stared at Frankie with an incredulous look.

"You _seriously_ thought that _Thomas Constantine_ had changed his ways enough to tell his son he was _sorry_? Oh Frankie. You're dumber than you look."

Frankie looked indignant at that statement, but he didn't say anything. Chas still had his knife to Frankie's throat, and Frankie very much enjoyed breathing.

Zed took a menacing step towards Frankie. "Where is the house?"


	5. Chapter 5

_**Okiedoke, here's the final chapter!**_

 _ **Characters are not mine. Haven't said that in a while, figured it bore repeating XD**_

Breathing was difficult. Thinking was difficult. Basically, John was finding it difficult to do practically everything as Jack continued to squeeze him from behind. Thankfully, right before John lost consciousness, the grip was released and he was dropped to the floor. The air felt so good in John's lungs as the blond drew in a deep breath, but he couldn't savor it for long. He could sense Jack coming at him from behind again, so he rolled out of the way as his attacker's fists crashed down where John's head had been milliseconds before.

He could feel the blood loss taking a major toll on his body, but John Constantine never gave up a fight that easily, and he turned around quickly so he could face, and hopefully finish, this particular fight. As he tried to move forward though, an invisible force once again pushed him back, slamming him into the wall. This time, thankfully, his feet were still firmly planted on the ground, but the force holding him in place had a solid grip around his neck. It wasn't tight enough to kill him, but it was enough that the occultist wheezed every time he tried to breathe.

John locked eyes with Jack, still in Thomas' body. The ghost was holding out his hand in a Darth Vader-esque fashion, which is what was keeping John pinned to the wall. Jack held that pose as he walked over to John's bag and began rifling through it.

After a few moments of searching, while John continued to struggle in the background, Jack pulled out a short knife John carried in his bag at all times. "It's not quite like the bullet wound that killed me, but it'll have to do."

"So this is it, then?" John rasped as he watched Jack get closer. "I thought...thought you said you were gonna make me beg."

"As much as I would love that, I don't think you're actually one to beg. You've got too much fight in you, and as long as you're still breathing, you'll fight. There isn't a begging bone in your body."

When Jack reached John, he raised the knife above his head, but the Englishman wasn't done yet. He kicked his foot out, connecting solidly with his attacker's knee. Jack stumbled back, but didn't seem as fazed or as in pain as John hoped. With a growl, Jack made another motion with his hand, and John's legs were pinned to the wall as well.

"The other wounds were for my family members. This one...this one's for me. You'll never be able to hurt anyone again, John Constantine." Jack raised the knife, and John had the briefest urge to call out for Manny's help, but before either of them could actually act, the front door was thrown open, and everyone paused. John looked over to the door, and while he would never admit it, he was glad to see Chas and Zed standing in the doorway.

Chas saw Thomas Constantine holding the knife above his son and immediately went into action. Quicker than a wink, Chas yelled and made a beeline for Thomas and knocked into the older man, and Jack's hold on John was released. John slid down the wall, but it wasn't to rest. He reached out and grabbed the knife that Jack had dropped when Chas jumped him. He heard Zed yell at him as she saw him raise the knife, but he ignored her as he reached up and cut a small slit on the side of his neck, right through the glyph keeping him from casting spells.

As soon as the glyph was interrupted, John could practically feel the spell lifting, and he immediately held out his bound hands towards Chas and Jack, who were still grappling with each other. Chas had several gouges on his arms, but John knew those would disappear soon.

"Jack Grady!" John shouted, almost no trace of the pain he was feeling in his voice at all; he spoke with authority. "As the one who named you, I command you: Leave this worldly plane and depart. Bother mortals no more with your presence, and be at peace!"

Thomas Constantine yelled, and when he did, a dark shadow came out of his mouth. Chas jerked back slightly. He hadn't realized they were dealing with a ghost. When the last of the smoky substance exited Thomas' body, the older man dropped to the ground, his eyes shut.

Once Jack was taken care of, John recited the spell to release his handcuffs. As they popped open, he leaned back against the wall, though this time it _was_ because of his exhaustion.

"John?" Zed asked as she hurried forward, crouching in front of him. She tried grabbing his face to look into his eyes, but the surly Brit knocked her hand away.

"'M fine," he muttered tiredly.

"No, you're not," Zed replied sternly. She tried to berate him more, but John spoke over her.

"How'd you know where to find me?"

Zed huffed in frustration, but she finally answered, "Chas and I...convinced Frankie to tell us where you were."

John chuckled at the thought of that, though it soon turned into a bout of coughing. "Woulda paid good money to see that."

"Yeah well, we're gonna need to pay good money to get you fixed up," Zed snarked back. John simply ignored her insistence and looked over at his other friend.

"How is he?" he asked Chas, who was still kneeling over John's father.

Chas felt Thomas' neck for a pulse. "Unconscious, but alive."

"Stupid git," John muttered darkly. Zed looked at him in concern.

"John, we need to get you to a hospital," she said as she observed his multiple wounds and his completely bloody shirt.

"I don't need a hospital, love," John argued. "Just get me back to the mill house. We can patch me up there." To prove his point, he tried to get to his feet, but his leg wouldn't take his weight. He started to collapse, but Zed had anticipated such a reaction from both the man and his body, so she was right there to catch him. Chas quickly came over and helped support John's weight, to which the blond let out a noise of indignation.

"Stop it," Chas chided.

"I'm fine," John grouched. "I don't need help."

Chas shook his head in disbelief. "John, if you can walk from here to the door, I'll let you be," Chas compromised, letting go of the man's arm. Zed gave him an incredulous look, but Chas responded with a look of his own, assuring her that he knew what he was doing.

John got a determined look in his eye, and he shrugged Zed's arm off his shoulder, though she resisted momentarily. Once John had removed himself from her grasp, Zed stripped off her shirt, leaving a tank top on underneath, getting ready to press it on John's worst wounds as soon as she could.

The door was about ten steps away from the trio, and John took three of them before his injured leg gave out. He didn't have the chance to hit the floor though, because Chas and Zed were right next to him. Chas looked mildly impressed.

"I honestly didn't think you were going to make it even one step," he confessed. John smirked.

"Well, that's because you and everyone else has a knack for underestimating me," he quipped.

"Says the man who was just tortured by a ghost," Zed muttered. John gave her an exasperated look.

"Don't look at me like that," Zed reprimanded. "You're lucky Chas and I got here in such good time."

"I was thinking of a way out," John defended. Zed nodded patronizingly, but before their argument could continue, they heard a groan. With his friend's help, John turned around and watched as Thomas Constantine began to stir. John jerked his head towards his father, and the three of them made their way over right as Thomas opened his eyes.

"Wha—what happened?" Thomas asked as he looked around. When he spotted John, his eyes widened. "Wha-Where...Mary Anne?"

"Mum was never comin' back that way, Thomas. You're lucky we got the ghost cast out of you when we did, otherwise you would have been seein' her, but not in the way you'd bargained for. Actually, I take that back. You'd be in opposite places."

Thomas glared at his son. "Why save me then? Why not just let me die? I know you hate me, and I have no real fondness for you."

Zed's mouth dropped open slightly as she heard Thomas' harsh words to his son, but John seemed unfazed.

"Don't think I did this for you, mate. The only reason you're not dead right now is because that ghost that possessed you needed to go back to its rightful place, and that meant tradin' places with you." John made a move like he was ready to leave the house, so Chas and Zed helped him turn around. They began moving towards the front door again, but apparently John thought of something else to say. He tried to turn on his own again and his leg gave out, but thankfully his friends had a tight enough grip on him that he didn't even sort of fall. Chas and Zed gave him an exasperated look as they turned again to face Thomas.

"Why don't you say the rest of what you need to say before we start walking again," Chas suggested. "Put aside the dramatic flares for two seconds?"

"Where would the fun in that be, mate?" John replied with a quick wink before moving his attention to his father again.

"Know this, Thomas. If you try to contact me or my friends again, I will make you gone, and this time I will make sure you stay gone. That's a promise, and if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I always keep my promises."

With that final threat, Chas and Zed finally helped John walk out the front door, leaving Thomas Constantine alone in the they reached their rental car, they paused a moment so that Zed could wrap her shirt around John's leg, making a tourniquet to try and stem the bleeding. While she did that, Chas pulled out his phone and began looking something up.

"Closest hospital is a fifteen minute drive," he announced. Zed nodded, but John shook his head vehemently, at least until the dizziness forced him to stop.

"I'm f-"

"Constantine, if you say you're fine, I'm going to have Chas hit you on the head and knock you out," Zed threatened. Chas held up a balled fist in cooperation, and John rolled his eyes. "Did you want to finish that sentence then, John?" Zed asked sweetly.

John grumbled a bit before finally muttering, "No," along with a couple choice words describing his friends, but they let the insults slide right by. As John started to get into the car, Zed reached into his pocket. "Ay," John said, jumping slightly in surprise and bumping his head. "Mind where you're reaching, love," he rebuked, rubbing his head. Zed rolled her eyes at him.

"You wish," she shot back as she held up his phone, pressing the home button. When the screen remained stubbornly black, she looked at John with raised eyebrows.

"It died."

Zed held down the power button and the phone powered to life. "Wanna try that lie again?"

"Fine, maybe I just forgot to turn it back on after I got off the plane," John defended.

"You need to keep your phone on," Zed chastised as the phone's screen suddenly started lighting up with all the texts and missed calls from Zed and Chas.

"Hey, bleeding-out John, here, remember?" Chas asked as he stuck his head out the window. "We can chew him out on the way to the hospital, but there's no point if he's not going to be around to hear it."

"I'm not dying," John grouched, though they all knew that wouldn't be the case for long if they didn't get him taken care of.

"Get in the car," Chas ordered in annoyance. Zed threw John's phone back at him, then got in on the other side. Once they were in, Chas drove off, following the directions for the closest hospital.

Zed watched as John leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. As much as the man tried to hide it, she could tell he was tired and in pain, but she didn't even need to use her psychic abilities in order to see that at least some of the pain John was feeling went deeper than his physical wounds. She wondered what the whole ordeal had been about, but she knew that now was definitely not the time to ask, and she honestly wondered if he'd ever actually give her a straight answer.

The bumps along the road made John wince in pain as his injuries were jostled. He knew he'd lost a lot of blood; most of the wounds hadn't been that deep, but they'd been left unattended long enough, and he was really starting to feel lightheaded from the blood loss.

"We're just a few minutes away, John," Chas said, looking in the rearview mirror at his uncomfortably pale friend.

"Mmm," John replied, not even bothering to open his eyes or respond. While he was reclining there, he suddenly heard a familiar whoosh of air, and when he cracked his eyes open, he saw that the car had been stopped in time. John rolled his mostly-closed eyes, then forced them the rest of the way open and turned his head to stare at Manny, who'd taken the place of Zed.

"So nice of you to finally show up," John muttered drily. "As usual, you come after all the fun is done."

"I couldn't come help you, John," Manny said. "As much as I wanted to. I knew that you'd get out of there, and it's not like I did nothing." The angel stared pointedly at Chas, and John sighed.

"Let me guess. Good traffic? Nice weather conditions for their flight? Stuff like that? You couldn't just come and maybe unlock my cuffs, or knock down the table that had my bag on it to make things a little easier?" John was angry, and he wasn't afraid to let Manny know it, but he began coughing, and the fit cut off his tirade he had planned. When he finished hacking up a lung, Constantine gave Manny an irritated glare. "Bugger off, mate. You were no help here, and you're not gonna be any more helpful now, am I right?"

"You know, John," Manny said, his voice matching John's irritation. "It wouldn't kill you to ask for a little help in healing you. In fact, it may kill you _not_ to ask. Remember Mexico? You didn't ask. I could have helped you."

"Yeah, but I haven't let a demon in this time, have I?" John asked with a small smirk. The weight of his eyelids was getting heavier and heavier with each passing moment, and he finally gave in and closed them, though he remained conscious.

"John." Manny's voice was impatient.

"What kind of a guardian angel are you if you can't even heal me without me begging for it?" John asked in exasperation, opening his eyes again to glare at the angel. Neither of them budged for a good solid minute.

"What happened to the John Constantine who said that mine was the kind of faith he could get behind?"

"You're lookin' at him, mate," John replied tiredly. His head lolled to the side as he tried to turn and look at Manny. "He's right here." When Manny didn't say anything, John sighed. "Look, Manny. I'm more than a little knackered, so either do what you can do for me, or let Chas and Zed get me to the hospital, because the longer I wait, I think the longer they're going to make me stay there."

"I'll take that as asking," Manny muttered, glaring at John.

"I didn't ask for anything," John insisted, though his words were mumbled and his eyes started drifting closed again.

Manny rolled his eyes at the stubborn British man, but he reached out his hand and held it over John's chest. There was a sudden, uncomfortable heat coming from all of his wounds. Constantine groaned.

"John?!" Zed's concerned voice was back, and Constantine realized that in the blink of an eye, Manny had vanished. Just like he always did.

"'M all right, love," John muttered.

"Would you stop saying that?" Zed demanded. "People who have just been ripped apart are not _fine_ , John, and-"

"Zed," John interrupted, his voice sounding much stronger than it had since Zed and Chas had found him. "Listen, I really am fine. Or, I will be. Chas, we don't have to go to the hospital."

The driver scoffed and was about to contradict his friend, but then John pulled open his shirt, and Zed's mouth dropped open. Chas turned his head to see what everyone else was staring at, and when he saw what Zed and John were seeing, he had to pull off to the side of the road to avoid crashing their car. Chas threw the car into park and immediately turned around to face them again just as John's last wound sealed itself shut. There were still ugly red scabs where he'd been sliced open, but the bleeding had stopped, and even the scabs seemed to be reducing in their redness and inflamed state.

"What the-how-when-" Chas was floundering for words, but he stopped and looked at John before asking, "Manny?"

John nodded.

"Why didn't he come earlier?" Zed asked, still looking at John's chest in awe.

"The usual," John replied. "He can't get his hands dirty and directly influence the outcome of a situation. Rubbish, if you ask me." Before Zed or Chas could argue, John continued. "So, we can just get back to the mill house now, eh? As we can see, I'm on the mend. Apparently I'm not supposed to die today, so I think we can skip the hospital journey, don't you?"

When Chas and Zed shared a look, John took the opportunity to cut in again. "Great. Let's get going then, shall we?"

"John, don't you think that you should at least get checked out?" Zed asked.

"And tell them what, love? I'm down a pint or two of blood, but there are no bleeding wounds? Face it, we're just as good going home as we would be going to the hospital."

Chas and Zed didn't want to agree with the man, but they both had to admit he had a point. After a few more minutes of debating, John smirked as Chas pulled back onto the road and headed towards the airport, while Zed got online and booked tickets for them back to Atlanta. When John leaned back against the seat again, this time it was because he was simply tired, not because he was possibly bleeding out.

"Thanks," John muttered under his breath, knowing that Manny was listening.

"What was that?" Zed asked distractedly, still working on purchasing their tickets.

"Nothin' love," John replied. "Just tired, that's all." WIth that, John settled even deeper into the seat, intent on resting as much as he could before they got home. He knew as soon as the plane touched down in Atlanta, they'd hit the ground running, and at the moment, he could really use just a few hours of sleep.

 _ **Okay, so if you watched the legends of tomorrow episode tonight, we found out that John's father is actually dead, which I was never sure about.**_

 _ **Also, I was really unsure about how to have John handle his father. On the one hand, I could see him just ending his father right then and there, but I also feel like he isn't a cold-blooded killer...in most cases, anyway. *shrugs* I don't know. I could be completely wrong, but the story is over now, so that's that.**_

 ** _I hope you guys enjoyed :)_**


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